The Worst of Fates

[Thal Mantis]

There was that dream-

That dream he'd been having, ever since he stopped having the sea of blood. Blue-tinted hues, and an impending sense of doom- followed by an ear-piercing scream. But now, he could see the beast finally. Great, ferocious, winged creature- and it was coming straight for him. He accepted it this time, his arms out, ready to embrace-

​

​

He awoke to soft light.​

​

The last thing he remembered on Kashyyyk was-

Pain.

Searing, pain, across his abdomen. Being flung away, tossed away like a lamb to the slaughter. He resolved himself to die then and there, accepting his fate. He had accomplished his revenge, what else was there, truly, for him? He was no Jedi, not yet at least- the teachings had not taken hold of him thus far. But here he was-

On a bed, furs underneath his bandaged body. He reached to his chest, touching the recently treated wound. He grimaced as he sat up, taking stock of his surroundings. It was an amicable space of living- modest, yet refined. Something about it seemed familiar, homely- but Thal knew he had never been here. He had only been to a few places in his entire life.

So why did this feel so familiar?

He didn't feel a prisoner, but he did not feel like he was welcome to leave. Then again, whoever kept him here, wanted him alive for a little while longer. He saw no reason not to at least try and walk around. Grimacing as he placed his feet to the floor, looking down to the blood lightly soaking his bandages- he began to walk to the door.

Sunlight graced his pale blue eyes, making him shield them while they adjusted to the soft glow of the sun. He blinked, watching the fields of wheat in the distance sway in the gentle wind. Thal at least had an idea of where he was. He was on a farm, somewhere- somewhere remote, quiet. He was probably a prisoner by distance. Anywhere he could have gone, he would have been done in by his wounds, exhaustion, or the fact that he had no idea where he was. The lack of trees and the sensation of height let him know that he wasn't on Kashyyyk. It smelled different here.

Familiar, all the same.

He blinked, looking over the landscape, from the porch of the homestead he now found himself on.

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Not the usual, typical place to bring back a hostile from the field of battle. It would be the first time Vilaz had ever done this. Instead of having the man in chains, be flogged and physically tormented with a life sentence to work in unforgiving labor in the most dreadful conditions, the Warlord simply had the man free. No bondage, no guards. Just himself waking up to a comfortable bed and wounds treated. Unorthodox behaving towards a prisoner...that is if he could be called that. Instead of imprisoning him it felt more as if he was perhaps rescued? Saved? If not, why the hospitality? Why let a man fighting for the Jedi be freed and allow him to do whatever he pleased. He could grab a knife from the kitchen, or break a chair and fashion a club from the leg of the broken furniture.

And if he thought he was dreaming, he had better think otherwise.

The Warlord sat on the porch, clothed in cotton and other fabrics rather than his armor. Only a pistol was on his person in terms of weapons and set on stun holstered away. He observed the horizon before him on Concord Dawn, enjoying the plains and other elements that drew what he could see. He listened too, mostly for the guest he was with. Trying to listen if he panicked or made any signs of confusion or being scared. The man was probably confused, but was able to keep himself calm and not mutter to himself all mental.

Instead he explored with caution and the end of it was at the porch the Mandalorian sat on.

”Do you know that cheating is considered a serious crime around these parts? People take themselves seriously, but it does more good than bad. Low tolerance for any outlaw punk that roams around.”

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

The voice belonged to a casual-clothed man. His suspicion of being a prisoner by distance was confirmed.

He was in no condition to fight, much less argue.

But his words, so callous, but casual-

He was in control. He must either be in charge, or be the one to take him back himself.

Thal didn't see the harm in sitting down on the porch- after all, the man took the time to patch him up. He grunted as he sat in the chair opposite him, taking in the scenery. He pondered over the words that he spoke, unable to decipher a meaning behind them until after he thought on his situation. It wasn't going to be the distance, or the wounds, that probably would do him in around here.

It was going to be someone who thought he was an outsider.

Here. Where was here, exactly? Furthermore, how long had he been out?

He had a lot of questions, but the man didn't offer any real answers currently. No clocks he could see- not that he paid attention to the time much anyways. He winced as he stared at the man gazing over the horizon.

"Outlaw punks don't get taken off-planet to be treated." He winced, leaning forward. Even in his state, there was something intimidating about Thal. He was a wounded animal, really. He shared a lot of traits that men of his bloodline had- moreso than he realized. But the things that Thal did know- well, he was off planet. He was treated. And he was a quasi-prisoner. But what he didn't know, who this man was.

And he didn't detect any lies, any deceit from him- he seemed too matter-of-fact, too sure. Too in control to be lying. He had an air of prowess, of violence about him. Thal understood that- to a degree. He got a good initial read on the man, at least. It brought him to a singular conclusion: tangling with this man, meant courting death. And Thal felt like he wasn't going to be able to keep the Deathless name for much longer if this all kept up.

In a macabre way, he was better off being sold to the slaughter at the Red Tower in terms of safety.

"Who are you?"

He started with a simple line of questioning- after all, the more pertinent questions would come later. Or maybe the man would offer more answers. Or some wise-crack about the planet he was on.

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Men like them had this sort of look that developed overtime. Seeing so much violence, taking lives, bringing woe to others left a mark on men of war. They were trained and built for it, and commanded great prowess when it came to war. Vilaz has breathed more than the young lad he took back home with him from the grounds of Kashyyyk. He could have killed him whether it was on the battle or here when seeing his wounds be cured, but he didn’t nor did he treated him like a prisoner which would have been a fate much worse than death. So why? Why take him from the Jedi and bring him to the plains of Concord Dawn?

There was no complicated answer to such a simple answer. It was all simple and rather straightforward. He had a look on him that reminded him of a warrior that no longer walked on the plain of the living, even fought in a ballistic way that was similar to Mantis. Could he be? That answer was yet to be veiled if he was or not, and Vilaz wasn’t fond of killing a potential offspring of that animal.

”Who am I? Or what am I? I’m something you see yourself in the mirror, little wolf cub. We share similar mindsets, how exactly I’m gonna kill this person? How to make my enemy suffer? And my favorite question, when will it all stop? When will I find myself sitting down with a view like this and never having to pick up a blaster for a long time? What is peace?”

”Men like us don’t know a damn thing about peace, and if we do it’s just a quick moment before we’re back in a violent attitude. Especially you with your lineage, or at least that’s who I believe you share the blood of. Do you know who I’m referring to, cub? He’d be rolling in his grave to see his own flesh having their sword being commanded by a Jedi.”

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

"Then you and I both know that our stories do not end in peace."

He knew that now. All his revelations, all his truths, mattered little beyond that fact. It was simply the way it was going to be. There was nothing to be done about it. There was only reality. And as far as things went, and as far as Thal was concerned- Thal was reality. Thal was the brutality of the galaxy, manifested in the distraught boy he was, and now, the wreck of a man he was. There was no hope for him. No future. Only the end, only the violence.

In that way, he was like his father, unknowingly.

Thal narrowed his eyes when Vilaz continued onwards.

"My parents, either of them, left me to rot in the Red Tower. I wonder if he even knew of me, this man you speak of. Because I don't."

So hateful, so matter-of-factly.

"My mother sold me for drug money. My father abandoned me. That is all I know, and that is all that matters. Who he was, is ultimately irrelevant to me. He abandoned me. He abandoned me to a life of a slave. So I could give a good less of a damn of what he would think of me." He breathed deeply, realizing how much pain he was in from his wounds.

"Where am I? And you've danced around the question. Who are you?"





[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Even shared the same attitude and demeanor, he wouldn’t be surprised if the boy woke up and turn out to look exactly just like Preliat. The apple didn’t fell off far from the tree by the looks of it. The wolf once suffered and fought through a life full of hardships, unleashing his frustrations with a sword and what may be his offspring seemed to suffer the same curse. Only difference is was that perhaps the boy could be saved and be refined into something better than his progenitor. He needed a mentor to guide him, not that he did a bad job at living up to this point. He was still young and had enough time.

”I am Vilaz Munin, and you’re on the planet of Concord Dawn; my homeworld,” he finally answered the boy’s question, not wanting to dance around that question and be an elder that would give riddles and questions to a man in their youth. That was just being inconsiderate for their time, after all he was brought here involuntarily. Wouldn’t be fair if he gave him ridiculous tasks in a quest to figure out the answers himself and dive into spiritual nonsense.

”The Silver Jedi have probably spoken about me and my clan, probably harboring thoughts of one day the Force bringing me to justice for my crimes against the innocents and finding their dead Jedi scalped. Dirty hypocrites as if their order hasn’t caused wounds in the Galaxy, but that doesn’t matter to me. You and I are realists, we have fought our way to get where we are today. The same way as your father, though you have it worse than he did. At least he had a roof over his head and siblings. You? You got nothing, and that hurts. Funny enough I didn’t have stable parents myself. I used to drive with criminals and gangsters out in these plains before my own shebs got knocked over by a Mandalorian.”

”I’m gonna guess you’re gonna ask me why I brought you here? Why I bothered to have you clean up and not kill you on Kashyyyk?”

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

Concord Dawn.

Thal was not a particularly educated man- after all, he was a slave, he was a brute, at one point. His education came from the limited time he had at the Silver Jedi. But he knew that one. After the attack on the temple- and his sharp descent into that untapped sea of rage in him, to which he visualized as the sea of blood, he deeply studied the Mandalorians. Concord Dawn was also home to one of the Order's more wary Guardians, a former Mandalorian himself.

And his study of the clans had brought up the Munin clan. It was something to say that the man before him was the... leader. The specific word in Mando'a escaped him. Basic itself was hard enough on Thal, his primary language being that of the lingua franca of slaves, Huttese, had to survive on the meager basic he could muster up, until recently where he had a good grasp on the language. Even then, his soft-spoken nature coupled with his accent gave away his unfamiliarity with the language.

Vilaz's words about having to fight to get where he was, was interesting. Because where was Thal, realistically in his life?

Aimless.

Directionless.

Scarred.

Broken.

His revenge claimed, his pound of flesh carved. Those who enslaved him lay dead, buried under what remained of the Red Tower. But Vilaz wanted him alive. Thal was intuitive, like his father. Picked up on the little things.

Thal spoke to the fields of golden wheat, swaying gently in the winds. His voice was quiet and soft, betraying his size and his brutality. He killed plenty of Mandalorians so far. Ripped them apart. And Vilaz killed plenty of Jedi. By all accounts, he should have left him to die at Silver Rest. But here he was. Because of one man.

"My father, isn't it? That's why."

Something owed. Something earned. Something to hope for. Vilaz saw something in Thal. He wasn't sure what it was, however.

"What was his name?"


[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

”His name was Preliat Mantis and he was one of Mandalore’s greatest, yet savage warriors. It took dozens of poor soldiers to put a dent on him,” with a combination of awesome technology the Mandalorians pushed for to excel at combat and the skills he possessed. Could rival the likes of Jedi, Sith, and other warriors of different worlds. Rarely did defeat ever come to him in battle. Death only came to him at his own hands, sometimes Vilaz would jest thag Preliat would not have wanted any other hands besides his own taking his own life away so that no one has the bragging rights of vanquishing the Wolf.

”You know, I take that back. Your father did have it worse than you. Imagine fathering a child that would later send our great culture into the mud and making a fool out of ourselves. Sucks to have her as a sibling that is if she’s alive which we should pray so,” a cruel laugh came from him, amusing himself from his own words. It would have brought great shame and dishonor if he patented that woman. Something that would follow anyone in life and death.

Unfortunate for Preliat that he would also be remembered for that tragedy.

”I’ll be honest, kid, I don’t think your father would not have wanted you. He’s different from what you think in my experience with him. He was very protective over his siblings and was always the first one to dive into combat. If he had known about you, he’d go looking for you and not waste a minute of the day in something else than that. He was caring and that was how you could get to him. Have a hand over what he loved and it was over that’s when you could declare victory over him without worrying your throat be torn out with his hands.”

“So now I ask, what are you wanting to do for the rest of your life? Live without reason, without purpose?”

[member="Thal"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

There was a long silence between the two as Thal processed the information that Vilaz gave him. Like his father, Thal inwardly contemplated his emotions. The difference between Thal and Preliat, however, was that while his father had something, someone, and friends and family and an entire culture behind him-

Thal had nothing. The Silver Jedi took him in, but he was rarely seen more than a savage brute let loose on attacking enemies, a cruel caricature of what Jedi were supposed to be. Thal stared off at the horizon, unable to comprehend Vilaz's words, at least, their depth- at length without great silence.

A life robbed, stolen. For money. The weight came crashing down on him in a singular instance. All these things that Vilaz said about his father- all these things that mattered little to him. He was a name, a memory of which he could not share in. So the musings of a friend of his father, fell on the ears of an uncaring, callous and broken man.

"What happened to him?"

The question that Vilaz posed was obviously ignored. Thal had no purpose. That much was known. And what did Preliat, his father, have, truly?

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

”He...he,” he made a face of grimace, facing away from the horizon of Concord Dawn and looking down at the floor below him. As much as a radical man he was, seeking for war and enemies to drive his beskad in, he was a caring person to those in his circle. His family, clan, and friends he’d fight along with side by side and would even sacrifice a limb to save them. It was painful to find Preliat’s body all bloody and broken, and laying down with his limbs facing in different directions than they normally should. He did not weep, but he did mourn. Uttered curses of how weak Preliat was to take his own life and coming to regret saying them. A colossal he was and he would be remembered in Mandalorian history, or at least Vilaz would make sure of that. His body was buried on Shogun beneath crystals that the planet produced. It was fitting for the man to be buried in an ancestral world of the Mandalorians that changed many things in their culture.

”He took his own life. The bastard jumped off from a cliff and ended it, I can only hope he found peace. I don’t understand why, maybe he couldn’t live with himself anymore. Maybe he’s suffered enough, but here we are still suffering in the realm of living. I was in disbelief to find him like that, it did hurt.”

He pulled out a device from his pocket and invited Thal to take it. It contained images of his father with his armor or without, with friends, posing over the enemy’s dead after battle, and whatever else he could find.

”You didn’t answer my question, boy. What are you wanting to do? You don’t have to live a life without purpose, I’m sure you have a road to follow. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that road. I suggest you just swallow down whatever pain and traumes you’ve suffered and deal with it. You’re not the first to have a shitty life nor the last, but you can change that.”

[member="Thal Mantis"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

The growing hatred of his father manifested in a light curling of his fingers into half-fists, but he stopped and glanced around. A father not only lacking knowledge in his existence, but to make matters worse, he did enough or suffered enough to take his own life.

He snapped his head to Vilaz, staring him down.

"You don't understand what it's like to live under a heel. What it's like to have all hope of your life being normal being taken. From birth, I was property, owned, chained, abused in all manner. I've watched people die for money, women traded like cattle, abused, raped- and you sit there and tell me to just swallow it?" Like his father, he was broad, tall and strong. And when he stood up, he loomed over him, like Preliat did. Preliat had experience, but Thal had tenacity and anger that his father developed over 40 years in half the time. A lifetime of abuses and training to make him a lethal killing machine in the gladiator pits of the Red Tower.

"What should I do, old man? Wander from town to town, slaughtering everyone in sight I disagree with? Hunt bounties like some of your people do? Find meaning in the ruthless pursuit of money? Stick with the Jedi and all their false hopes? Or perhaps I should take part in my father's legacy- a broken people, now being crushed under the heel of the Sith. Please, do tell."

A way with words did not come from his mother. But Preliat was more laconic than his son, he spoke with less. Thal was an angry, young, abused man. He had a lifetime of grievances to air out- Vilaz just so happened to be the target of his rage currently.

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

His hands reached for his pistol and placed it on the table that sat between his chair and the one Thal vacated once he stood up. Like hell Vilaz was going to tolerate someone standing up, looking down on him, and being talked down on; but he wasn’t going to use a weapon of any sort to have dominance over this boy. Besides it wouldn’t have helped either, Thal basically sought for death at this time. Sure he could’ve taken his own life just like his own father, though as to why he hadn’t? A question without an answer, all Vilaz knew was that this Mantis would continue to breathe and fight until someone cut his string. With what he had gone through death didn’t fear him, and neither did it scare Vilaz. Both men knew death was inevitable and impossible to evade, everyone would meet their own fates at a given time no matter how much power they vested.

”Yeah, I’m telling you to swallow it,” and the Warlord pushed himself from his seat and stared back at Thal, both invading their own personal space and making it difficult for their reflexes to counter an attack if either opted for that path. There was no sign of fear in the two of them, both had a straight face although Thal’s had a hint of anger and hatred which mirrored his tone of voice. ”You’re not the first nor the last man to face hardships you didn’t deserve, and I’m just giving you the facts. There’s plenty of others out there facing all kinds of chit they got whether at birth or because time, and I’ve given plenty of people grievances from my raids. Whether it was for a lust of it or for resources don’t matter. It happened because that is the way and it cannot be reversed.”

The Mandalorian broke the bridge of connection they had in their eyes and took a few steps towards the railing of the porch, again looking out at the same landscape he’d always seen every morning he woke up from his bed.

”I’m not here to tell you what you should do for the rest of your life, boy. Whatever you choose to do is because you have decided it. That is the way. Only help I can give you is be a guide for you. I can give you advice and insight, but ultimately it’s all based on what you want.”

Silence followed for a few moments, and Vilaz spoken again before Thal opened his mouth or retreated off to somewhere.

”There is a place I must take you and you’re coming. Take it as a way compensate my wife healing your wounds,” he turned his head and looked back at the Mantis, awaiting for what he had to say next.

[member="Thal Mantis"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

He had a litany of thoughts come rushing at him, but the last thing that Vilaz said before he even had a chance to say anything back, made Thal give pause.

Going where?

A long list of questions formulated in his mind, but he had no real way to ask any of them, the who, the what, and the lastly and most importantly, the why- had to begin with a simple question.

"And where would that be?"

A part of Thal already knew that answer, a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind that he didn't need the force to find an answer for. Then, Thal's shoulders drooped. He hadn't said something that he should have, yet.

"Thank you, Vilaz. For saving me."